The Fates (Parcae)

Sive est ira Dei, quod crimina nostra mereri
Certe ego crediderim, seu sola iniuria coeli,
Natura variante vices. Hic pestifer annus
Humano generi incubuit, flendumque minatur
Excidium, mortique favet densissimus aer.
Saevus ab infecto prospectat Iupiter axe;
Inde pluit morbos et tristia funera terris,
Staminaque immites properant abrumpere Parcae,
Omnia, si possent, pariter; vereorque superne
Quod cupiunt ne posse datum: tot pallida vulgi
Ora videns miseri, tot Tartara nigra petentes.

Perhaps it is the anger of God, and I would surely believe our crimes deserve it. Or perhaps it is only some harm from the sky, as nature changes its course. This deadly year has fallen on the human race. It threatens a destruction to weep over, and the thick air favors death. Savage Jupiter looks down from an infected sky. From there he rains down sickness and grim deaths on the earth. The cruel Fates hurry to cut the threads of life, all of them at once, if they could. When I see so many pale faces among the wretched common people, and so many heading for black Tartarus, I fear that heaven has given them the power to do what they want.